


change is the only constant

by SportRayne (rayningnight)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brazil, Canon Compliant, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, POV Hinata Shouyou, POV Third Person Limited, Past Relationship(s), Post-Time Skip, kagehina endgame, sunshine boi needs care and 💦, sunshine boi needs love, you can pry loveable hinata from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayningnight/pseuds/SportRayne
Summary: Patience isn’t something that comes easily. It’s something Shouyou’s been working on. But some things just— never change.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	change is the only constant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dayoldcupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayoldcupcake/gifts).



> a giftfic for cup, now brought to light on kagehina day 🍳🥛

Patience isn’t something that comes easily. It’s something Shouyou’s been working on. But some things just— never change.

He wants to play volleyball _now._

He wants to be better than his best _now._

He wants to stand on the world stage _now._

_He wants to play, to be better, to stand with—_

Honestly, Shouyou doesn’t think he’s changed _that_ much from his days at Karasuno. He’s gotten slightly taller, slightly bigger, maybe he eats more and stays healthy, but… 

Okay. So. Maybe, it’s not like it was a _radical_ change.

It’s not.

He’s seen himself in the mirror, every single day. He’s seen himself sprout maybe a centimetre taller, wider, thicker. 

Maybe it’s radical if all people have seen is his fifteen year old self compared to now.

_You’ve changed._

🏐

Oikawa-senpai comes back into his life like a last-minute receive. He’s unexpected and a _delight._ He sucked at beach volleyball at first, but it’s not like Shouyou could say anything about that. Still, seeing the setter of Seijoh, one of the best players when he was in high school, fall flat on his face? And then asking for _more?_

Yeah. Oikawa-senpai is fun. 

It’s different from what his new normal has become, like rewinding back years. Shouyou got used to being the quiet, foreigner, used to loud voices as they shouted at him to _understand_ , to be watchful of gestures that could mean the start of a bar brawl _._

Now, Oikawa-senpai is a return to 2015 when he still had a team to sweat and eat with, Japanese in his ears that’s not coming from something electronic, and a setter by his side as he falls asleep after a game— 

Oikawa-senpai is fun. 

Shouyou stares at the lowered lashes casting shadows on pale skin, a contrast to his own tan. Oikawa-senpai looks incredible under Shouyou’s covers. But, he will only stay for a week, if that.

Oikawa-senpai is _just_ fun.

“You’ve grown up.”

Shouyou startles as he realizes those lowered lashes were not completely closed. He can just make out familiar brown eyes, travelling up and down his body in the dark.

Oikawa-senpai leans up on one elbow, resting his head at an angle as his smile widens in the moonlight. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Shouyou imagines his tinier self, first meeting those eyes at his very first official practice game at Karasuno, gleeful and frustrated at seeing this amazing volleyball player.

At Karasuno, when he was still with—

“Am I really that different, Oikawa-senpai?” Shouyou raises his hand, palm up, tanned yes, but still small, with the same crooked pinkie finger since he punched—

Oikawa-senpai’s hand is warm, with thin, trimmed nails just like—

“Would I be here, if you were still a _boy?”_ he says with a voice like honey. “Of course you’ve changed.”

🏐

He hasn’t seen anyone in person from his high school days in _years._

Bokuto-senpai hasn’t changed much, still loud, proud, and an _ace._ He’s easy to fall back into old habits with, screeching and jumping and flailing. Shouyou is always greeted with a bright _hey hey hey!_ and leaves from practice with a cheery _thwack_ on his back. The other members though—

It’s easy to get to get to know members he’s never seen before. It’s a blank slate. But Sakusa-san is a reminder of Karasuno’s defeat in his third year, even if he hadn’t been _there._ Itachiyama is a sore spot as much as Seijoh and Shiratorizawa, and it takes a while for Sakusa-san to become Omi-san.

Then, there’s Atsumu-san.

Atsumu-san is a setter dump that Hinata barely catches in time. He’s a trick, something you can’t ignore, something that snaps you into moving forward _fast._ Atsumu-san calls Shouyou greedy, hungry, all sorts of things— and Shouyou thinks it’s true, but that’s the pot calling the kettle black. 

Atsumu-san always wants more.

Shouyou finds a kindred spirit in him, during games. Atsumu-san always pushes for more, to be better, making Shouyou jump higher, run faster, hit _harder_. The need to win, to stand above, is always present in games with him. It’s a good partnership, Shouyou thinks. Atsumu-san pushes and Shouyou pushes back. 

It’s probably obvious what happens next.

Shouyou finds himself in a lavish home very much unlike what he’s used to. The ceilings are bare of any kitchen mishaps, the floors gleaming like mirrors, the indoors airy and soft and not muggy at all. It’s large. Shouyou thinks the bedroom is as large as his dorm back in Rio.

He threads his arms and head through his rumpled shirt from the ground once he steps out of the warm bed. Shouyou walks to stand at the veranda as the morning light breaks the skyline. It’s beautiful. From his periphery, he can see the grey turn warm and golden, which matches dyed blond hair splayed across the pillows and white sheets.

Atsumu-san will wake soon and want more.

Shouyou will push back. 

Just as he always does.

“Y’always wake up at the crack of dawn?”

Shouyou keeps his eyes forward and hums. “Habit, I guess? Leftover from Rio.”

“Why’s tha—“ Atsumu-san yawns.

He remembers everything around him, everyone around him, moving forward into school, the upperclassmen graduating, the first-years looking newer and younger, with Yachi-chan and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi preparing for college, leaving only him and— 

Shouyou exhales. 

And then, he thinks of being oceans away, being alone, with only his thoughts and a lit screen in the dark to accompany him. Shouyou remembers being adrift without familiar mountains, the sun hot across his back, the language guttural and loudly spoken all around him. He remembers waking up as his friends across the world fell asleep, sending pictures in the day only to get a reply in the middle of the night. 

He shrugs, watching the familiar sky turn from grey to blue. “I needed a new constant in my life.”

It’s quiet. Shouyou wonders for a moment if Atsumu-san has fallen asleep. He tilts his head and turns to find Atsumu-san’s eyes clear as he rolls over onto his stomach.

“Yer an odd duck, Shouyou,” Atsumu-san lowers his head down, tucking his chin in his crossed arms. His eyelids flutter, before they settle mid-cast, heavy and drooping. _“Constant_ , eh…” 

In the early hours of the morning, Shouyou can count on the sun to rise in the east, for the sky to turn bright, for birds to chirp and life to awaken. Everything around him, everyone around him, changes eventually.

A fistful of his shirt is grabbed onto and he’s suddenly being pulled, but Shouyou let’s Atsumu-san pull him, encircle him, his skin bare against Shouyou’s thin shirt. It’s very warm. He tries to rest his chin on top of Shouyou’s head, but ends up sliding down to Shouyou’s left shoulder. 

Shouyou huffs. “I’m not _that_ short anymore, Atsumu-san.”

“Yer always going to be short to _me,_ Shou _you,”_ Atsumu-san snuffles into his shoulder. “And Atsumu- _san?_ What happened to _A-tsu-mu?”_ he says, blowing air against Shouyou’s neck at each syllable.

“Habit, sor _ry,”_ he whines, resting his head back as he catches Atsumu’s eyes.

“Yer just full of annoying habits, aren’t’ya?”

Shouyou pauses, wondering, like with all the setters before: _should I change for you?_

“Eh, never change _for_ me,” Atsumu wrinkles his nose and tightens his arms around Shouyou. “Change is somethin’ that happens for yerself, _for_ yerself.”

Shouyou leans back and closes his eyes. “I think… I don’t like it. Change.”

Atsumu lets out a breath. “Well, the tinier _you_ wouldn’t’ve made it so far, don’t ya think? It’d be kinda sad if no one grew up, got stronger, got better. It’s good. Great! Yer here now because you’ve changed.”

🏐

Kageyama’s voice echoes down the hallway like a repeated serve. A second service ace. Fast, expected, but also not, because there’s something just different enough that Shouyou is blindsided. Kageyama is even _taller,_ the bastard, standing in the hallway near the bathroom that Shouyou sorely needs to use. He wears a white ensemble now, his grin is wide and crooked, and his hair— 

His _hair._

And when he replies at first, he’s so monotone. Where’s his passion? Where’s his glare? Ah— 

There it is. 

Soon enough, the others join in, and it’s a real monster party, until they're all forced to move onto the court. And then there’s the game. His first game back is everything that Shouyou wanted. It’s fun, it’s hard, it’s at the centre stage. This game is still the beginning of the trek to the top, but to Shouyou, he’s finally at the starting line where everyone else is. 

Playing volleyball, becoming better than his best, standing on the world stage with— 

“Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve changed.”

Kageyama snorts. “Really?”

Shouyou frowns. “Yeah, you have.”

Kageyama stops sipping his milk box and turns to face Shouyou, but continues walking. They both stepped outside of the Sakanoshita Store where the rest of the few Karasuno alumni were eating dinner in, since Kageyama wanted _vending machine_ milk, for some reason. What was the difference between the milk box and the two litre carton from Coach Ukai’s fridge? Shouyou only joins him because the idiot called out a race and Shouyou can’t take a _race_ lying down. It’s like… he has to make up for it, because even if his Jackals beat Kageyama’s Adlers, he’s still losing at 1100 losses. 

This race won’t count but it’s the _principle._

“I don’t think so.”

“Yamayama, you’re like a _giant.”_

“Well, _everyone_ changes in that way, idiot. We’re all getting old. But all the things that matter are the same.” He holds the carton with his thumb and forefinger and counts with the middle, ring and pinky sticking out with his free hand. “One: I’m playing volleyball. Two: I’m improving at volleyball. Three…” his eyes slide to Shouyou before darting to the side, and he speeds up.

“Hey!” Shouyou jogs forward, “What was—” 

Kageyama’s cheeks are flushed and he won’t _look_ at Shouyou as he speeds forward. “There’s no _three_ —”

“I heard you say three!”

“You heard _wrong_.” Kageyama goes back to drinking his milk box but Shouyou hears the telltale of an empty carton when the idiot sucks too hard once and then doesn’t suck at all. He’s no longer drinking _anything._ Kageyama is holding the milk box up, straw stuck between his lips, and _pretending to drink._

Shouyou doesn’t know what comes over him. He doesn’t really think about it later on, but at the moment, all he thinks is: _well, if he’s gonna keep quiet, here’s a better reason._

He plucks the box from the pincer grip and presses up. Kageyama’s eyes widen and he freezes so fast, and… 

Huh.

_Hmm._

Shouyou leans back and smacks his lips. “I _guess_ it tastes better than regular,” Shouyou grins. He ignores all the butterflies in his stomach.

“D-Dumbass.” There are bright spots on Kageyama’s cheeks, a blush that makes Shouyou wish he had his phone on hand to snap a photo and frame as his wallpaper. “What was that for?”

Shouyou hums. He knows that look. “I’ll give you another if you tell me what three is!”

And then, Kageyama’s whole _face_ becomes a tomato.

“I-Idiot,” Kageyama runs his free hand across his face and mumbles something.

“Hm?” Shouyou rocks forward.

Through Kageyama’s fingertips, Shouyou hears: “Three… I’m playing volleyball with you.”

Shouyou leans his head back. “But that’s different. We weren’t playing together until today!”

Kageyama lowers his hand and scowls. “Not at the same time. Or place. But we both still played, we both are getting better, and we’re both going to get a spot on the team. The _national_ team. So really, everything’s the same.”

Shouyou jumps up, digs his heels behind Kageyama’s calves, loops his arms over his shoulders, and squashes their faces together. Kageyama’s arms wind around and catch him and steady him. The _genius_ opens his mouth without Shouyou needing to lick his lips for entrance and this kiss is _perfect._

Maybe a gazillion years pass in the moments here before Shouyou jumps down because he can feel the strain in Kageyama’s arms. It’s sweet of him though. Kageyama chases him down so they’re still a breath away from each other.

“I had to wait for you to see you in person again, and it was so _frustrating,”_ Kageyama doesn’t lean back as he mumbles, “I don’t like waiting.”

“Yeah, well, I flew to another country to get better and I don’t like _change.”_

“Dumbass Hinata.”

“Idiot-yama.”

_He wants to play, to be better, to stand with—_

He wants to stand on the world stage _now._

He wants to be better than his best _now._

He wants to play volleyball _now._

Patience isn’t something that comes easily. It’s something Shouyou’s been working on. But some things just— never change.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm rox for organizing ☀️ and if you got a notification earlier today, well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ this has now been reposted folks 💞🐟🕊


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